


Missions Change

by TheCapinMyHeart



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Confusion, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 17:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3298787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCapinMyHeart/pseuds/TheCapinMyHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While fighting his target on this Helicarrier, this trained assassin runs into a few problems. </p><p>When the blond man he's supposed to kill claims to know him and continues to say things that pull out old memories, the Soldier has a hard time focusing on the mission at hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missions Change

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.” That wasn't when the memories flooded back, but it sure as hell was a good moment to blame. The moment the blond man mentioned what he believed to be the Soldier's name, he knew this was going to get difficult. It had been in the first place, what with the Mission begging him not to do this- not to try and kill him. As though hundreds before him hadn't done the same thing. But since when did the Soldier remember general numbers of how many he had killed? Since when had he remembered anything but his Mission? The mission was all that mattered, yet this man had him sidetracked. He glared at the Mission, vents in the metal arm slowly closing, clamping together to allow more strength as he threw a punch at the blond.

“Shut up!” the words were shouted through gritted teeth. A thud resounded as the Mission hit the ground, shield first. He stood, his eyes never leaving the Soldier's as his hands raised. Following that, a softer sound echoed through the space as the Mission's helmet his the ground. Blood trailed down his chin as he stared at his friend, desperately trying to get through to him. For a brief moment, a flash of recognition shined in the Soldier's eyes. A pang through his heart that begged for him to just forget the mission and to let this man tell him everything he believed he knew about the Soldier. And just as quickly as shone, it was gone, recognition turning into a fierce hatred.

The Soldier had worked for years without qualm, doing as was told of him without question and going back onto ice when he needed to. He remembered always going to get wiped and put in Cryo without complaint- though he shouldn't. Wiping- Cryotanks. None of that should exist in the Soldier's mind. Yet there it was, crystal clear and horrifyingly painful. And since this man had shown up in his life, the Soldier had been having a hard time just listening to the orders he was given. Memories had been flashing through his mind, breaking through that thick barrier that had been built some seventy odd years previous. The man he used to be began to fight to escape, clinging to the image of the man before the Soldier. Clinging to anything he could to bring back the life he used to have. Even after they wiped his mind, the Soldier could clearly picture the man on the bridge. _He knew him._ That was all that ran through his mind. 

And what right did this man have to come in and destroy the way the Soldier worked? Who was he that he could just change things with a simple name? Who had he been? That was what infuriated the Soldier the most. Not the fact that the man had changed things, but the fact that the Soldier couldn't remember him, yet knew in his heart that they knew one another. Brilliant blue eyes stood out in the Soldier's mind, bright and happy. He fought to ignore the desire to pull that look into the Mission's eyes.

“I'm not gonna fight you,” the words came suddenly, yanking the Soldier from his internal battle. The decrepit shield fell from the blond man's arm. More recognition in the Soldier's eyes. A brief memory of a small, weak looking man in an ally, covered in blood, flashed through his mind.  _I could do this all day._ The words resounded in his mind perfectly, as though they had just been said. The Soldier gritted his teeth, swatting the memory away internally. “You're my friend.”  _Friend._ The word stood out in his mind, but he couldn't care less at that point. Another threatened to bubble past his lips.  _Pal._ It stuck out- shouting meaning without giving reason.

The man had finally struck a nerve.  _Who the hell is this bastard to call me a friend? Doesn't he know he's going to die? Friend? No. Never._ It took the Soldier only a few seconds to decide how to react. He jumped onto the blond man, tackling him to the ground. A shout of anger escaped him as the two fell. Friend? How could that be? He was a Soldier. He had a boss and doctors and his sleep. 

Budding memories bubbled to the surface for a moment, fighting for clarity in the Soldier's mind. He saw the two of them in a bar, sitting together and talking. For some reason, the man was tall, and the Soldier couldn't figure out why because he had always been smaller. The mission had always been smaller and weaker. That's just how it was.

“You're my  _mission._ ” The Soldier stated calmly, metal arm retracting. The metal seemed to crunch as it contracted around the gears, tightening to put strength into the swing. Within moments, metal collided with skin, drawing blood from the man under the Soldier. With each punch, he hit harder, fending off the memories that plowed into his mind. A word came with each hit that was bestowed. “You're- my- mission!” A sickening sound resounded with each hit, making the Soldier feel sick to his stomach. Each hit dulled the thundering noise in his mind- the voice that shouted- pleaded with the Soldier to stop. The voice that told him that he knew this man. He needed to know that this moment couldn't be real, made palpable only through the punches landing on the blond man's skin. His body forces him to a jolting halt as every fiber in his being is at war with itself to kill the man.

The blond's head lulled back briefly, as though he was fighting to keep consciousness. But that couldn't be, could it? He had lasted so long- so well in their earlier fight and even the one on the bridge. Could he be through already? The Soldier stuttered in his punches for a moment, caught off guard by his near concern for the man he was sent to kill. And then by his ability to remember the bridge. He saw so clearly the last time he saw Boss. He had given the order to wipe, so why did the Soldier remember?

His arm went back for one last punch when the blond began to speak once more. “Then finish it,” he told him, his arms limp at his side. More hesitation from the Soldier. A sensation of dread welled in the pit of his stomach.  _What is this? Is he giving up?_ The Soldier struggled to comprehend what was going on. And then their eyes met, and the Soldier knew it was done. “Cause I'm with you to the end of the line.”

Silence met the sentence, both vocally and mentally. All noises halted, arguments trapped after wrapping thickly around the phrase. It thrummed throughout his entire body with a sense of rightness. And then the words echoed in the Soldier's mind, in his own voice. He felt his old arm wrap around a shorter version of the man in front of him- felt the fondness spread through his body. He didn't just know him before- he knew him  _now._

A memory rushed to the forefront of the Soldier's mind- a funeral, the blond's parents' apparently. The two walking home together. A key, hidden under a brick. Cushions of a couch on the floor mixed with broken sobbing and far too many drinks. That kid from Brooklyn that had grown into something amazing.

He looked at the man- at  _Steve_ , and knew who he was. Knew his name and the place they had in each others' lives. And he couldn't do it- couldn't bring himself to land that last punch. Finally, he let the war in his body stop, accepting that he would not complete this mission. For the first time in decades, tears slid from the Soldier's eyes. He didn't understand why. There were still too many blank spots of his life before, but it was filling. That emptiness was slowly being fixed with each sentence Steve uttered. 

Then it was over. The bridge from above them fell and took out the last of the paneling they had fought on. The Soldier's chance at his old life was falling to the ground. Steve reached his arms up for the briefest of moments, as though he was going to call out and ask for help, but it passed and in its stead, a lifeless look developed in his eyes. Steve gave up.

In an instant, it all came rushing back to the Soldier. He wasn't the Soldier. He had a  _name-_ had a  _life._ Just like Steve had said- he was Bucky! Who the hell is Bucky? The Soldier is Bucky. That day on the train filled his thoughts. Sliding down to meet the train, shooting desperately. The slim hope that had filled him when he picked up Steve's shield, only to be thrown out of the train by a blast he couldn't combat. Gripping the slim bar that was only just hanging onto the broken wall of the train. The desperation that filled Steve's features as Bucky had hung there, reaching out with his entire being, praying to get out of this. The wind had been so cold, he could have sworn he felt himself getting frostbite, though that hardly seemed important at the time. The broken ribs he was sure to have protested at the way he held on, gripping tightly to that last chance at life. The groaning of the metal seemed so loud back then, muted only by his own yelling when the bar finally broke and sent him plummeting to the ground. 

He felt himself mourn for the man he used to be, before the war. The way he was able to carry himself and the lighthearted way he could just exist. Bucky knew that man was still there, but he couldn't reach him. It was just like on the train- just out of reach of the thing he needed most. His heart.

And at that moment, his heart was plummeting to the water just like Steve. The blond man hit the water, sound muted only by the crashing of pieces of the helicarrier around him. The Soldier hesitated for only a moment, his breath catching in his throat. He felt the pain of loss once before, and he'd be damned if he was about to lose him all over again. Hesitation passed, he dove into the water, pulse thundering in his ears. For the first time since this all began, Bucky was scared. Afraid he might lose the one man that had been able to pull him away from all the atrocities.

The water was murky, darker and harder to see through than normal. Debris fell everywhere, clouding the water and marring the sun that was shining brightly above all of the fighting, as though mocking them for their internal war. Mud stirred all around Bucky, fogging up his vision, and for a second, that almost stopped him. And then, years of combat kicked in. The Soldier took charge for Bucky, letting the man recede into his memories while they were still present. Who knew how long this lucidity would last. His mind, the part where Bucky was not, was clear of everything but one thought. He had found a new mission.  _Save Steven Grant Rogers._ Thoughts clear and separate from the man he once knew, the Soldier was able to spot a gloved hand sinking towards the bottom of the lake. In the back of it all, Bucky seemed to scream out, stepping away from the memories for this moment only to reach with every fiber of his being to protect his best friend. The Soldier understood the silent cry and grabbed the blond. By the time he reached the surface, the Solider had subsided and Bucky was in charge once more. Memories can be shoved all to hell and back. None of that mattered when Steve was about to drown. Bucky did all he could to keep Steve's head above water. 

_I can't lose him. Not again. Not ever again..._ _**He's my mission** _ . It seemed the Soldier still had a level of understanding about the man, yet was not able to fully swing around the thought that Steve was no longer a kill shot. The Soldier still ached to complete the original mission that had changed without a direct order. His left hand throbbed with a ghostly pained need to kill. That fact had Bucky trembling with heart in his throat as he tried to remain in control. So long as the Soldier was threatening to regain control and complete this mission, Bucky believed, in his heart, that he couldn't be around his best friend. He chose, instead to run away, staying just long enough to ensure that Steve could breathe and didn't need CPR. The woods he walked into welcomed him, branches brushing his shoulders sympathetically, as though they understood his pain. Regret filled his soul, but the fear of losing that kid from Brooklyn was strong enough to keep Bucky from turning around and making sure he was okay. 

His heart seemed to tug backwards, to gravitate towards his unconscious friend, but he knew that this wouldn't be the last time that the two would meet. With that in mind, the assassin was able to keep walking, with the hope in his heart that he could work the red out of his ledger. He had to right what had been done both to him and by him, and he wouldn't rest until Hydra was destroyed for good. Only then, did Bucky, and the Soldier, believe that they might be worthy of the faith that rested in Steve's eyes when he saw the brunet. For then, he could only try. Try to fix things. Try to remember, and then try to forget. Try to become who he once was. Try to replace the gaps in his life. And try to become someone that was even capable of being called human. For Steve, he would try.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so this is my first story posted here and I wasn't quite sure how to go about it. But I'm really quite proud of this story and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)


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